you.’
‘Thank you.’ Ben hurried inside, aware he wasdripping on the wooden floor. But the woman seemed not to notice. ‘My name …’ he began.
‘… is Ben Foundling,’ the woman finished for him. ‘Of course it is. Come with me and let’s get you dry and find you some hot soup. Mr Knight is busy just now, but I’ll let him know that you’re here.’
Ben followed the woman through a dimly lit hallway. There were wooden panels and dark paintings on the walls – some portraits, some landscapes, one a bizarre picture of a demon sitting on a bed beside a sleeping woman.
The woman’s high heels clicked on the floor as she led the way briskly down a corridor. Ben wondered who she was, but just as he was about to ask her, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t introduce myself. You must think me very rude. I’m Mrs Bailey. I look after the house and manage Mr Knight’s business. I look after the other children too.’
‘Other children?’
The corridor ended at a large kitchen. One wall was taken up with a wide black cooking range. There was a bare wooden table in the middle of the stone-flagged floor. Saucepans and other cooking utensils hung on racks from the ceiling. A microwave stood incongruously on a worktop, close to an equally out-of-place large aluminium fridge.
‘Soup,’ Mrs Bailey declared. ‘And if you sit here by the range, you’ll soon warm through.’
She pulled a chair out from the table and angled it for Ben to sit in.
Ben was shivering. He hadn’t realised how cold – and afraid – he was until he felt the warmth from the stove. He almost collapsed into the chair, the sleeve of his jacket catching a china jug close to the edge of the table as he moved.
But Mrs Bailey’s hand was already outstretched, ready to catch the jug before it fell. She must have seen what was about to happen. She steadied the jug, moving it out of the way.
‘I’ll get you some soup first. Then I’ll tell Mr Knight you’re here,’ she said.
*
The warmth from the range slowly seeped into Ben’s bones. His hands were cupped round a mug of thick vegetable soup. It was so hot from the microwave that he could only sip at it. But the soup was tasty and before long Ben was feeling much better.
He wished Sam was with him. When he looked up from his soup and saw there was a figure watching from the door to the corridor, for the briefest moment he thought it was Sam.
But it was the girl who had come with Knight to the home. Gemma. She was leaning against the door frame, her arms folded, head tilted to one side. There was someone else behind her, another child Ben couldn’t see clearly. He could just make out that it was a boy – dark-skinned, with pale eyes that gleamed in the shadows.
‘He doesn’t have any aura at all,’ Gemma said to the boy, as if Ben wasn’t there. ‘Why’s he come?’
Ben wasn’t sure what to say. Didn’t she know he could hear what she said.
Another voice – an older girl’s – called from back down the corridor. It sounded bossy and irritated. ‘Come away from there. You’re not supposed to be down here. Come on.’
The boy turned and walked quickly away. Gemma pushed herself away from the door frame with a nudge of her shoulder.
‘See you,’ she said to Ben, and smiled. Then she turned and ran after the boy.
Moments later, another girl appeared – Ben guessed it was the girl who had called out to them and told them to go away. She was older – older than Sam too. Her dark hair hung in curls to her shoulders and she had the kind of mouth that curled downwards in a sort of perpetual sneer.
‘Have you come to look at me as well?’ Ben asked.
She sniffed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I don’t know why I bothered.’
Ben turned away, taking a sip of his soup. When he looked back, she had gone.
The man in the suit arrived a few minutes later.
*
Knight’s study was a mixture of the orderly and the chaotic. There were piles of books and papers,
‘Thank you.’ Ben hurried inside, aware he wasdripping on the wooden floor. But the woman seemed not to notice. ‘My name …’ he began.
‘… is Ben Foundling,’ the woman finished for him. ‘Of course it is. Come with me and let’s get you dry and find you some hot soup. Mr Knight is busy just now, but I’ll let him know that you’re here.’
Ben followed the woman through a dimly lit hallway. There were wooden panels and dark paintings on the walls – some portraits, some landscapes, one a bizarre picture of a demon sitting on a bed beside a sleeping woman.
The woman’s high heels clicked on the floor as she led the way briskly down a corridor. Ben wondered who she was, but just as he was about to ask her, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t introduce myself. You must think me very rude. I’m Mrs Bailey. I look after the house and manage Mr Knight’s business. I look after the other children too.’
‘Other children?’
The corridor ended at a large kitchen. One wall was taken up with a wide black cooking range. There was a bare wooden table in the middle of the stone-flagged floor. Saucepans and other cooking utensils hung on racks from the ceiling. A microwave stood incongruously on a worktop, close to an equally out-of-place large aluminium fridge.
‘Soup,’ Mrs Bailey declared. ‘And if you sit here by the range, you’ll soon warm through.’
She pulled a chair out from the table and angled it for Ben to sit in.
Ben was shivering. He hadn’t realised how cold – and afraid – he was until he felt the warmth from the stove. He almost collapsed into the chair, the sleeve of his jacket catching a china jug close to the edge of the table as he moved.
But Mrs Bailey’s hand was already outstretched, ready to catch the jug before it fell. She must have seen what was about to happen. She steadied the jug, moving it out of the way.
‘I’ll get you some soup first. Then I’ll tell Mr Knight you’re here,’ she said.
*
The warmth from the range slowly seeped into Ben’s bones. His hands were cupped round a mug of thick vegetable soup. It was so hot from the microwave that he could only sip at it. But the soup was tasty and before long Ben was feeling much better.
He wished Sam was with him. When he looked up from his soup and saw there was a figure watching from the door to the corridor, for the briefest moment he thought it was Sam.
But it was the girl who had come with Knight to the home. Gemma. She was leaning against the door frame, her arms folded, head tilted to one side. There was someone else behind her, another child Ben couldn’t see clearly. He could just make out that it was a boy – dark-skinned, with pale eyes that gleamed in the shadows.
‘He doesn’t have any aura at all,’ Gemma said to the boy, as if Ben wasn’t there. ‘Why’s he come?’
Ben wasn’t sure what to say. Didn’t she know he could hear what she said.
Another voice – an older girl’s – called from back down the corridor. It sounded bossy and irritated. ‘Come away from there. You’re not supposed to be down here. Come on.’
The boy turned and walked quickly away. Gemma pushed herself away from the door frame with a nudge of her shoulder.
‘See you,’ she said to Ben, and smiled. Then she turned and ran after the boy.
Moments later, another girl appeared – Ben guessed it was the girl who had called out to them and told them to go away. She was older – older than Sam too. Her dark hair hung in curls to her shoulders and she had the kind of mouth that curled downwards in a sort of perpetual sneer.
‘Have you come to look at me as well?’ Ben asked.
She sniffed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I don’t know why I bothered.’
Ben turned away, taking a sip of his soup. When he looked back, she had gone.
The man in the suit arrived a few minutes later.
*
Knight’s study was a mixture of the orderly and the chaotic. There were piles of books and papers,
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